


Taste of You

by realityisiron



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Vampire Shiro (Voltron), Vampires, Werewolves, and everyone else is a werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 21:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12396999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realityisiron/pseuds/realityisiron
Summary: Hunk has put too much of himself into Shiro's birthday cake for Lance to have a slice.~ ~ ~ ~ ~Prompt fill for anon on Tumblr who wanted fluffy Shunk with Hunk as a werewolf and Shiro as a vampire.





	Taste of You

**Author's Note:**

> Those Shunk feels are back, kids. If I didn't have a dozen other fanfics planned, I would really want to write more in this AU.

“Why is Shiro the only one allowed to eat cake?”

Pidge glances over from where she’s scooping a monstrous heap of moose tracks ice cream onto her plate - her appetite courtesy of the full moon only a few days away. “You mean… besides the fact that it’s his birthday?”

“He’s had hundreds of those, and hundreds of cakes too! He could at least share this one,” Lance pouts, his eyes flashing a rich amber color when he senses annoyance from the rest of the pack.

“Shiro’s not even two-hundred, and trust me when I say none of you want to eat this cake,” Hunk booms. Even from the kitchen the ever growing moon’s effect on him is obvious, his voice impossibly dropped in pitch. Shiro smiles over his shoulder, watching as Hunk reappears with the small round cake artfully covered in cream-cheese icing perfection.

Lance’s pout pinches into a skeptical frown. “You trying to tell me it’s gross? Because I kind of think that’s impossible. And it’s red velvet. Come on, Shiro. At your age you probably need to be eating less sugar anyway.”

Which is laughable - hell, even Keith snorts, but Shiro honors Lance’s request by looking down at the cake in consideration, knife poised to cut a section for himself. “I mean, it’s not like I’ll actually eat this whole thing,” he starts, good-natured as he slices into the red center.

“Uh, no way,” Hunk objects, eyes gleaming deep orange as he snatches the cake from Shiro’s hands, suddenly alpha male and authoritative. His lips press together and his forehead creases in poorly disguised disapproval. “I put way too much of myself into this for you to share.”

That’s probably a normal thing to say. It’s an expression after all, used for all manner of hobbies and projects. But Shiro is staring at Hunk, fangs growing in his gaping mouth for all of Hunk’s pack to see.

Keith arches an eyebrow, Pidge returns to her ice cream, and Lance predictably crosses his arms. “What, so now we’re not worthy of Hunk’s baking skills?” He’s all drama and light-hearted outrage, but his antics are a little much for some of the pack.

“Lance, drop it,” Keith snarls, ripping away the moose tracks from Pidge before she can kill it off. Her own eyes flash yellow, saying as alpha female she is not pleased with his thievery, but then she glances down to her tower of ice cream and abruptly decides to let him have it.

“I’m just saying. Hunk starts dating Shiro and he gets his own special cake? Next thing you know we’ll be-”

Hunk can’t watch the trainwreck any longer. “It’s my blood, Lance.”

Lance chokes on air. “It’s- that’s- so when you said-?” There’s a moment of silence as his brain computes. “You know what? Keep it. I’m killing off your popsicles as revenge.”

“The red ones?” Hunk asks.

All the color drains from Lance’s face. “Oh don’t tell me- is nothing safe in this house?!”

He presses the back of one hand to his forehead like any good southern belle, then hams up his exit as he goes to find something safe for werewolf consumption in the pantry.

The rest of the party passes in a pleasant blur - Lance having discovered the chocolate cake Hunk baked for everyone else. Pidge wants to gag at how many times Shiro gapes at Hunk like he’d hung the moon. Long after he eats four slices of cake (which he would later claim was just two really large pieces), the birthday boy is still running his tongue over his fangs, remembering the taste. When Hunk’s pack calls it a night, there’s a small pile of opened presents on the coffee table and about thirty-two bottles of beer that crazy werewolf metabolism made quick work of.

They leave Shiro and Hunk curled on the couch, Hunk the best space heater Shiro could have asked for even as the werewolf rants about how clearly that one guy is working for the big bad and no, the protagonist shouldn’t trust him with her secret identity. That’s bound to spell trouble for her in the season finale.

“Hunk…” The ranting stops. Shiro doesn’t have to look to know Hunk is staring at him. “Do you really have blood popsicles in the freezer?”

His head bounces while Hunk chuckles beneath him. “Uh, no. It was funny though, right?”

“Yes but… you know you didn’t have to make my cake like that… right? I would never ask you to-”

“I know,” Hunk interrupts, voice soft. “But I wanted to.”

And Shiro learned long ago to trust that Hunk knew what Hunk wanted. Even if it was a one-armed vampire. Shiro smiles and presses into Hunk’s side, listening to the heavy thumping of his heart in his chest. He imagines that, if his own worked anymore, they would beat together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Say hi to me on [tumblr](https://realityisiron.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
